


The Rythm of My Footsteps

by myhomeistheshire



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU Fic, Angst, Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-16 20:23:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2283378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myhomeistheshire/pseuds/myhomeistheshire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara finds herself in 40s Brooklyn, and ends up running into a dashing dark-haired soldier with a terrible fate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It’s her idea, the trip back to the 40s. Because even though she’s seen different planets and galaxies and the earth 500 years in the future, that was _different,_ and she wants to see this time period up close, and so what if Captain America was her favorite superhero and he just happens to be there at the same time?

 

She spends forever in the TARDIS’s giant wardrobe, feeling the soft fabric beneath her fingers as she walks down the rows of dresses. She finally picks an outfit - a neutral colored top and skirt, with a floral cardigan overtop. “Come _on,_ you old bag!” She shouts over the railing of the control center, and hears footsteps coming up the stairs. The Doctor’s head pokes up, and then the rest of him, which curiously _not_ dressed in 40’s wear. “Doctor, what’s going on?” She says skeptically, and he looks up at her with that look in his eyes that shows her how old he truly is.

“I - I can’t come, Clara.” His voice is apologetic, and he doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “There’s something else I have to do - someone I have to meet with. But I’ll be back to pick you up right tomorrow, yeah? You go have fun in the 40’s with your superhero.”

And normally Clara would argue but something about his voice or the way he looks like he’s carrying the world on his back stops her, and she steps up to place a hand on his shoulder and a quick kiss on his cheek before she steps back.

“Take care, alright?” She asks, and he smiles at her before she twirls off and pushes through the TARDIS doors into the streets of Brooklyn.

  


She’s not sure where she’s going, but that’s alright because she knows that the most interesting things happen on the journey, not at the destination. She contents herself with peering in shop windows and putting on her best american accent to talk to strangers (it’s not very good, and she gets a few strange looks), and reveling in the scent of cigarette smoke and worn leather.

She’s doing quite well until she trips, and her heel snaps right on the cobblestones. “Oh, _drat.”_ She hisses, stumbling out of the way of the oncoming crowd. She should’ve known not to wear those heels, but they were so pretty she just couldn’t resist.

“Oh, you poor thing!” Clara glances up to see a sweet-looking blonde with tumbling hair looking down at her. “Do you need another pair?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, just pulls off the shoes she’s wearing and hands them to Clara.

“No, thank you, but I couldn’t -”

“It’s not a thing, I swear. I live just down the street, it won’t take me a minute to get another pair.” So Clara slips them on and they fit, just like magic.

“Thank you so much,” She says, in her american accent, and this time it comes out a little better. The girl doesn’t look at her like she’s mad, at least. She sticks out a hand. “I’m Clara Oswald.” She says brightly, and the other girl shakes her hand.

“Lacey Turner.” She responds. “You look lost - is this your first time in Brooklyn?”

“Yes,” Clara lies, because it’s her first time here in this time period, after all. “I came down to visit my aunt for the day, but she was just admitted to the hospital, so I can’t stay with her like I thought and I’m afraid I’m a bit shaken after it all.”

“Well, if you don’t mind a bit of a walk home you can stay with me tonight - my mum and dad won’t mind a bit, and _oh_ that would be perfect - a friend of mine is setting me up on a blind date, and you can come with and we can double!”

“I’m not sure -”

“Oh _say_ yes, it’ll be such fun!”

“Well, alright.” Clara acquiesces, because even if she did come to see a certain superhero she’s gotten so turned around she has no idea where in Brooklyn she is at this point, or where to find Steve Rogers. She supposes she should’ve looked that up before, but she was expecting the Doctor to be with her and he always just _knows_ these things.

 

She goes back to Lacey’s house for the other girl to pick out a new pair of shoes, and then they go for milkshakes and Clara can hardly stand it because she’s sitting in a parlor sipping a milkshake in the _40s_ and then it’s getting dark and Lacey’s pulling her hand and telling her that they need to hurry or else they’ll be late. They sit by a fountain where they’ll be meeting their dates, and Clara searches for small talk because believe it or not she’s a bit nervous about all this.

“So the two that we’re meeting - you know them?”

“Just Bucky.” Lacey replies, with a mischevious smile. “And don’t be worried, I just know you two will hit it off. He’s setting me up with his best friend, Steve. I’ve never met him, but Bucky’s told me only good things so I’m hoping he won’t be a complete drag.”

“Steve?” Clara asks, only mildly interested because there’s no way she’d be that lucky.

“Steve Rogers.” Lacey replies, and Clara’s stunned into silence for the first time in probably forever, but the other girl doesn’t notice because she’s already up and waving across the square at someone in the crowd. “Bucky!” She yells, and then Clara sees who’s there and she almost forgets about Captain America because he’s tall and dark-haired and has a smile that makes her think that the world is spinning a little faster, just now.

“Clara Oswald.” She says, a little faintly, and Bucky smiles back at her and lifts her hand to his lips.

“Bucky Barnes.” He replies, lowering her hand but not letting go of it, and Clara will forgive herself one small weakness if it means staring into his eyes a little longer.

  


The rest of the night passes like a dream, with the streetlights and the smell of stale perfume and the cool night breeze and the feeling of his fingers entwined with hers, all night long. And when she goes to leave he kisses her softly, just once, and she watches him walk away with a lump in her throat and goosebumps on her arms.

  
  


 

The Doctor comes for her later that night, and she whispers goodbye to Lacey and slips out to where the TARDIS is waiting, and when she closes the door behind her she’s caught up with giddiness.

“You look like you had a decent time.” The Doctor comments, and she laughs out loud.

“You have no idea.” She replies, spinning around in a circle.

“I take it you met your superhero, then?”

“Oh, yes.” She replies, “and - and someone else.”

“And who’s the mysterious guy?” The Doctor says, and Clara flushes.

“No one. I mean - his name’s Bucky. Bucky Barnes.” And she doesn’t mean to give away so much in a few words but the look the Doctor’s giving her tells her that she has. But there’s something else in his glance, too - a sadness, just hovering on the edge.

“How was your meeting?” She asks, because when she sees that sadness she wants nothing more than to make it disappear. He looks down at the controls, and when he speaks his voice sounds much, much older than even his many years.

“It was brilliant. She hasn’t changed a bit.”

“She?” Clara’s voice sparks with interest.

“An old friend.” He doesn’t elaborate. She doesn’t ask him to.

  


It’s a few weeks before she asks nonchalantly if they could possibly drop in on old Brooklyn again, and they stop by and stop some aliens from taking over New York and she just happens to run into a dashing young soldier with dark hair and a heart-stopping smile.

 

They drop in again and again, until they reach the point where Bucky always expects her to show up out of nowhere and leave just as quickly, and she’s gotten used to seeing him every few weeks. She doesn’t know what they have, just that it’s nothing she’s ever had before. And one day, the Doctor tells her quietly that she needs to see something, and she follows him blindly like she always does, never thinking for a moment that she’ll regret it.

 

And the snow is whirling in her face and they’re standing on a hill and a train comes below them and she’s thinking _what does this have to do with Bucky_ when the train gets closer and she sees two figures clutching onto the edge of the train and it’s him and he’s falling and she’s shouting but the Doctor is holding her back and her throat is raw and tears are frozen to her cheeks but all she can see is his face as he falls down into the abyss.

  


She spends a full 24 hours in a near-catatonic state, until the Doctor knocks on her door and comes in with a tentative look, saying that there’s something he needs to tell her. And then he explains, how Bucky didn’t actually die. How he’s a prisoner of HYDRA.

“Well then, we need to go get him.” Clara says, jumping up instantly. She sees that he wants to tell her something else, but he doesn’t have the nerve to say it and she doesn’t have the nerve to ask. She grabs the TARDIS’ controls and sends them spinning into time and space, to save the life of the man she could have loved.

 

They appear in the HYDRA base, and just seconds after they’re surrounded by agents.

“Come out with your hands up!” They shout, and even though they could’ve escaped Clara is feeling reckless and stupid and so she steps out and they’re both escorted at gunpoint to a barred cell. There’s an adjoining cell, with a middle-aged man in it, and Clara hisses over to him until he comes over to where she’s sitting.

“I’m looking for a Bucky Barnes - James Buchanan Barnes.” She whispers under her breath, and the man gives her a look like she’s completely bonkers, or maybe just an idiot, before scooting over to the far side of his cell.

“We’ll find him.” The Doctor assures her, but just then the doors to the room open and they see soldiers filing in, one after another. They’re carrying a prisoner with them, and it looks like he has a _metal arm_ \- and then Clara stops breathing because it’s _him._ She doesn’t want to call out and endanger him any more, so she watches as they shove something in his mouth and push him back into a giant metal chair.

“Doctor.” She whispers, and she knows he hears her she _knows_ but he doesn’t say one single thing. “Doctor, help him.” She says, louder, and this time he responds.

“You know I can’t.” She sends him a look that’s equally furious and exhasperated and incredulous. “It’s a fixed point in time, Clara!” He says dispairingly. And of course this is what he didn’t want to tell her earlier, what she didn’t want to ask.

“I don’t _care!”_ She cries, and she’s grabbing the bars between her and him, and they’re lowering him back in the chair and he’s shaking and yelling and she’s screaming his name, over and over and over.

  
  


It’s a slow recovery, after that. She gets the Doctor to drop her at home and she doesn’t leave her room for a week. She never knew what it was like to run out of tears but she does now, and there’s something in the pit of her heart - a little corner of darkness that wasn’t there before. She finally goes back to the image of her life - getting up in the morning, making a cup of tea, going to work, coming home and crawling under the covers and drifting into the blissful realm of sleep. Sometimes she expects to wake up in Brooklyn, watching the sun rise against the foggy horizon as Bucky strokes her hair and leans his head against hers.

 

She remembers hearing once that if the world would stop spinning, just for a second, everything in the entire world would crash against each other at a speed of 1600 kilometres an hour. Her life feels a little like that, right now. She takes it one simple step at a time, but she doesn’t go travelling with the Doctor. She’s not ready for that yet. She focuses on her job and getting up in the morning, and every once in a while she’ll go out with friends but she only feels like she’s half there. People have started tiptoeing around her, and she can’t quite extend the effort to make her smiles as bright as they used to, or her voice quite as strong.

  


 

“Have you seen that Captain America exhibit, then?”

She’s visiting a friend, Marissa, in Washington, because she did miss her a little, but mostly she just wanted to take a plane like a normal person, and now these words jolt her out of her stupor.

“I . . . no. No, I haven’t.”

“Well, you should.” Marissa says confidently. “I’ve been twice - it’s brilliant. They’ve got everything there.”

“I s’pose I’ll have to go see it then.” Clara says with a weak smile.

 

So she does. She stands in line, buys a ticket, walks through the poor recreation of the life of Steve Rogers. It hurts like a punch to the gut, but she holds it together until she rounds a corner and his face shows up on the screen, laughing like it was yesterday.

She doesn’t move, isn’t sure if she can, really. She just stares at the giant image of his face and is hit with a thousand memories. She glances down at another screen and sees him with Steve, and he looks so _happy_ that she can’t help herself - a tear slips its way down her cheek. She bites her lip and tells herself that she absolutely _will not_ cry in front of all these people. She’ll make it out to the car, at least, before she breaks down.

 

And then she feels a callused hand slip into her own, as familiar as her own, and she whirls around to see who it is -

  


 

 

 

The world stops spinning, for a moment. Because who else would it be?

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens to the Doctor while Clara is in Brooklyn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I had this in my head the whole time I was writing from Clara's POV, and I didn't really intend on writing it down. But here I am. I might be continuing Clara's persective some more, I haven't decided yet. Enjoy, and remember that comments are my lifeblood :)

When he leaves Clara on the streets of Brooklyn, he wonders again if he’s doing the right thing. He’s not sure how he’ll be able to do this - to look at her again, with the Doctor that isn’t him, hear her laugh, and then just...leave.

 

He told her he would come, though. So he flips a few switches and knobs and guides the TARDIS to the one point in time that could be his salvation or his downfall.

 

She found it, a while back. A small hole in the space-time continuum that allowed for the two universes to meet, just for a little while. She got him a message, telling him where to meet her. There were only a few times that it was open to both of their timelines, all several years apart. So he’d waited, but he hadn’t forgot. And now comes the time.

 

When he steps out into the galaxy, it should be impossible. Here he is, standing in the stars - not drifting, not running out of oxygen, feeling solid ground beneath him. It’s the universe’s big anomaly, and he is so grateful for it.

 

“Doctor.” He hears her voice before he sees her, and a smile breaks out on his face as he turns.

 

She looks older - it’s been five years in her timeline, after all. She doesn’t look surprised at the new face, just stands there smiling at him. He pulls her into a hug, holding her tightly and wishing that he could stay here forever.

“Rose.” He almost can’t believe it as he’s saying her name. “My beautiful, brilliant Rose.”

“You didn’t quite believe it would work, did you?” She asks, but she’s still smiling at him in a way that seems to make the stars stop shining.

 

He can’t quite stand it, being this close to her and knowing that it won’t last.

  
  


They talk for hours and hours, sitting on the doorstep of the TARDIS. Rose tells him about the many changes in her life. She has a son now, she says and he can’t help the pang that resounds in his chest. His name is Jamie, and she shows him a picture - he’s inherited his mother’s blonde hair and his father’s brown eyes, and, she tells him, both of their intelligence. He’s only three, but he’s already reading and learning about everything he possibly can. The Doctor thinks he’s probably the luckiest child in the world, growing up travelling among the stars.

 

He tells her more about Martha and Donna, and then explains Amy and Rory, and finally Clara.

 

She listens as he tells her about the weeping angels, and she somehow manages to say exactly the thing he needed to hear. He misses that about her. He misses her.

 

“So you just dropped Clara off in Brooklyn?” She asks, and he looks down at his hands. He isn’t proud of this.

“I’ve seen a bit into her timeline.” He says, finally. “I got a bit mixed up, figured it wouldn’t matter when I dropped in even if it I hadn’t strictly been there yet, at that point. And I saw...I saw what’s going to happen next.”

“And you’re frightened for her.”

“Yes.”

“Does she leave?”

And that’s the ultimate question, isn’t it?

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Of course she does. Will. They all do, eventually.

  
  


 

 

When their time is closing, he doesn’t say goodbye. He hates goodbyes. She knows this, so she leans in and kisses him on the cheek.

 

“Until next time, Doctor.”

 

“Until next time.” He repeats.

  
  
  


This time, the TARDIS’s familiar noise isn’t a comfort. It’s the distant sound of a train, carrying the two of them ever further apart.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was based off of this tumblr post: http://mykindofidiot.tumblr.com/post/97087880707/matyldakwiatek-what-is-wrong-with-you-and-why  
> Title from the song 'Transatlanticism' by Death Cab for Cutie.


End file.
